Once a Falmer, Never a Falmer
by Irish Wine
Summary: Excuse the stupid title, I couldn't think of anything. The adventures of a snow elf raised by the feral Falmer under Blackreach. Rated M for future chapters
1. Chapter 1

**This was just an idea I had while getting ready for bed, and I really liked it. I know it's not the best but I hope to continue it if y'all don't hate it ;_; Read and review, please. **

_My life is an odd one, a sentient snow elf living amongst the devolved remnants of my race, the Falmer, in a place that the mortals above call Blackreach. I'm one of the last of my kind that hasn't turned into a shadow of a being that waddles around underground like apes, though I suppose I'm not too unlike my brethren in some aspects. I've never met any others of my kind that weren't the slimy, violent little beasts that live here with me, and I've only met a few other beings in general at all. I was a fluke, to be honest. A baby born from the fabled beasts that was, somehow, not like the rest. Intelligent, statuesque, normal. It's really very unclear why I even was born like this; maybe something has a plan for me that I can't control. The others down here don't even know the difference, though. They're little more than animals scrabbling in the dirt trying to survive long after they were rightfully screwed over by the Dwemer. They don't speak any real language anymore, more just grunt and hiss at each other to get their point across. They raise skeevers and those terrible giant stinking bugs, chaurus for food and armor, and they promptly dispatch anything unlucky enough to stumble in here and then fight over who gets to nibble at the remains first. _

_Truthfully, I don't like it down here. It's dark, cold, wet and smells badly. I smell badly, too, but I can't help it. I'm entirely unsure how to fix it. The giant glowing mushrooms that sprout up around the place are poisonous and therefore inedible. I find myself revolted every time I walk past one- according to a few journals and books I've managed to scavenge from around the ruin dating from long before my family were in such a bad way, these mushrooms are the very things that the Dwemer used to turn us all into mindless beasts. So far, however, I've been too scared to leave the actual ruin itself. I imagine it to be a terrible, violent place that few can dwell in and while it's not the best life down here, it's familiar and safe and I'm at least not alone. Up there, no one would care about me or even want to. At least the Falmer have retained some sense of familial bond, and they watch out for their own. Many times I've tried to test the new babies for any signs of being like me, but so far none have passed. They're slowly getting smarter, though, and the extra set of blind eyes that their predecessors have are now completely bred out. I've even seen some hints of a nose in a few of them. This is exciting news. My kind may just make a comeback after all! _

A deep, guttural cry came from near the entrance of the cave, and my sensitive ears prickled immediately. That was a noise I'd never heard before, and my brethren were just as curious as I, scampering toward the noise with weapons clutched tightly to them. I bent to all fours and decided quickly to make sure the children and pregnant mothers were safe while everyone else dealt with whatever had tumbled into our midst. Pushing my way into the largest tent in the cavern, I came upon a heavily breathing and very miserable looking woman that I'd taken to calling Pallor on account of her exceptionally pale skin. She immediately caught my scent and hissed loudly in my direction, pawing at her bulging belly in desperation. The children, all a few years old now, were cowering in the corner with one of them bleeding from a scrape on his face. He'd apparently gotten too close to Pallor and gotten a swipe across the head for it. I smiled and shook my head, kneeling at the soon-to-be-mother's side and spoke nonsense in a soothing voice as she struggled and screamed, trying to rid herself of the baby within. I rubbed her shoulder and she wailed some more. Outside, the entire camp had dissolved into chaos and I was suddenly very afraid for all of us, but Pallor hadn't seemed to notice and I didn't want to send her into a panic when she was so nearly done giving birth. That wouldn't help anything.

Moments later, a wet noise came from between the struggling woman's legs and I saw the pale skin of her baby briefly flash as it dropped onto the dirt and began to scream wildly. Pallor now seemed frightened, her ears twitching about as she listened to the commotion outside and rose quickly to shaky feet. She scooped up her baby, still wet and bloody and actually disgusting and shoved it into my arms before bolting from the tent, destruction magic kindling between her fingers. I looked down at the thing for the first time, entirely unsure what to do and was startled at what I saw in its eyes…intelligence. Its face wasn't twisted and ugly, and its body was small and pudgy and soft rather than looking like a little clone of its parents like Falmer children usually did. I inhaled sharply and wiped some of the muck away from its face with my hand and smiled down at the little thing. It would likely be like me, a normal snow elf. This was exciting in so many ways. I would finally have someone of my own that would understand me and be able to understand things other than cleaning chaurus chitin and eating raw skeever and smearing its own shit over itself for camouflage. The baby had stopped screaming and was now gazing up at me, not smiling or making a single sound. Just staring.

I also noticed the noises from outside had stopped and I was relieved at that. Whatever was going on out there had undoubtedly been taken care of, but the footsteps coming toward the tent I was in didn't sound like the scuffling little gallop that the Falmer usually did, but I didn't care. There was another snow elf like me and I needed to get back to my journal and document this historical moment. In the back of my mind I wondered if this would be a recurring thing, but my thought process was cut short when the gloomy light that filtered through the open tent from the mushrooms outside was blackened by a tall, thick figure that definitely wasn't Pallor coming back to retrieve her child. I screamed and clutched the baby to my chest, and it started sobbing again too. The beast raised its weapon, looking down at me briefly before dispatching the children who were all huddled up in the corner, quivering in fear. I pressed myself harder into the wall and squeezed my eyes shut, clutching the slippery baby tighter and hoping I wasn't going to die right after I'd helped birth another like me.


	2. Chapter 2

I'd apparently fainted, but when I opened my eyes I knew I wasn't dead yet. Just…somewhere else.

So this was the sun? It was warm, bright and amazing. Not at all the terrible, skin-burning ball of fire in the sky I expected. I smiled absently, enjoying the feeling thoroughly before I promptly wondered where I was, why I was here and where that baby was. I scrambled around on all fours, wide eyes trying to get accustomed to the bright light and help me get my bearings at the same time.

A deep voice came from nearby, but from where exactly I hadn't been able to pinpoint yet. "Calm yourself, girl. You're fine. I'm amazed you survived so long down there anyway; and with this baby nonetheless."

_The baby. _I twitched my pointed ears in annoyance and pulled back my thin, pink lips in a snarl, "Baby. Give. Now. Or I kill." My knowledge of the above-dwellers language was minimal at best, but I figured it got the point across anyway. Heavy footsteps drummed behind me and I spun to meet them, teeth bared.

"Easy, lady! Shit." It was a human! I'd only seen a few of these before and not for very long, since they were always taken down by the other Falmer and turned into a meal. It smelled male, and had an odd tuft of hair sprouting from his face unlike anything I'd ever seen. I desperately wanted to reach out and touch it, but who knew what this mongrel beast might do if I got too close? My patience was waning now, though, and I stomped a foot on the ground and lowered my voice into the scariest bellow I could manage.

"BABY." The human looked surprised that such a big sound had come from such a small elf, and I silently agreed with him. He held up one pink finger in the air and trotted off into a small thicket of…something nearby. I pushed myself onto two bare feet and padded after him, deciding to deal with everything else after he returned the child to me. I squealed loudly and jumped back a few feet when I saw the man from before molesting a massive, ugly beast covered in brown hair. "What's your problem? I just swaddled the baby and strapped it to my saddle for safe keeping! I don't know what you're supposed to do with one of the damn things, so I thought it best to just leave it be until you woke."

I paid no attention to his blathering and instead held out my pale arms, opening and closing my hands in a 'gimme' motion as he handed me a ball of some sort of soft material. I gave him a puzzled look, "Want baby. Not…this." I attempted to give him the ball back. Maybe this was some sort of strange human peace offering but I was in no mood for that. I just wanted to go home.

He shook his head, the tuft of weird hair swinging about as he did so, and peeled back a layer of the cloth to reveal the round face of a baby. I grinned at him, thinking how ingenious it was to wrap it in something like this to protect it. The Falmer never did that, I thought.

"Well…there you go. You must've been down there a long time, elf. Your skin is all white and your language skills are lacking to say the least. How'd you end up in Blackreach?" I rubbed my thumb over the sleeping child's cheek, giddy with excitement. I looked up at him and wondered passively what he was saying. Taking a few steps back, I looked around for the familiar glowing mushrooms and chitin tents and piles of insect eggs, and after not seeing anything of the sort I started to panic a bit. What if I couldn't get back?!

I gave the human a concerned look, "Home. Go back. Home!" He looked confused and at last replied. "Where do you live, elf? I'll be happy to escort you back to your family."

I nodded frantically at the words 'back' and 'family'. "Yes, yes! Back! To where come. Pallor, miss it." I nodded toward the baby in my arms.

Realization passed briefly over the man's slightly wrinkled, scarred face. "You mean to Blackreach? I don't think this Pallor woman is in there…I killed all the Falmer and I only found you and that kid."

My pale blue eyes grew wide as dinnerplates, and my voice instantly went to maximum shrillness. "You kill my Falmer? MY FAMILY. You kill them!" He didn't look worried at my outburst, and that angered me. I wanted badly to wrap my hands around his throat and kill him like he'd slaughtered my family.

"What? Wait…you're one of them snow elves aren't you? By the Gods! I thought you were all extinct or mutated into Falmer." He pulled his lips back widely, something that surprised me and caused me to snarl back in return. How rude.

"Why? Why have kill you them?" I murmured, sinking into the soft embrace of the plants that grew in the dirt here, rocking the baby gently. He knelt to meet my watery gaze and spoke in soft tones. "They aren't people, elf. Beasts. They were trying to kill me."

I sniffed, tears falling freely from my eyes. "You come in our home and murder." I couldn't quite read his face, and he simply put a hand on my shoulder and nudged me up into a standing position. "Come, you can't go back there and live all alone." I nodded in reluctant agreement.

The sun no longer looked as bright as it had before, and the colors of the world seemed muted. The feeling of grass (as he'd called it) under my bare feet wasn't as soothing as before and I no longer felt fear of this man. He said he was only defending himself, which is a good enough reason to kill as any I supposed. He made me put more slabs of that odd cloth over my body, saying that it was frowned upon to be naked out here like I was. I didn't fight it, just did as he instructed. The baby never woke up once the entire time, for which I was glad.

That ugly brown thing he'd perched the swaddle on earlier was called a horse, apparently, and I no longer thought it was so ugly after all. Just odd. It cropped at the grass nearby and shooed away insects from its rump with a long, black tail that it flicked from side to side. I now sat up against a rough, huge plant that looked slightly similar to the mushrooms from back home while he poked and prodded at the horse and fiddled with some leather straps and fittings that sat upon its back, explaining everything to me as he did so.

"Now, you see this here? They're called stirrups and you put your feet in them when you ride the horse." He flapped around a piece of leather with a large metal ring on the end. I nodded slowly, still staring at that tuft of hair on his face. None of the Falmer had ever had anything like that before, I thought.

"What is…name?" I spoke tentatively, unsure of the correct terms I was supposed to use still. He smiled briefly and turned toward me, tugging the horse forward by a strap protruding from its grass-filled mouth. "I am Baragma. Yourself?" I repeated the name over and over in my mind, making sure to understand it correctly before shrugging at his question. The Falmer never named their children and I'd never bothered to give myself one over the years before. "Not have."

Baragma reached a hand down to help me to my feet and I obliged, still holding the now-awake and cooing child in my other arm. "Now, you ride and I'll walk. It'd be uncouth of me to sit astride a horse while a woman with her child walked. I'll help you up." I widened my eyes, taking a step back. I was not sitting atop that strange beast.

"Don't worry. He's well behaved, I promise. You just have to sit there and I'll lead him." He didn't look like he was trying to trick me, so I took a few tentative steps forward and reached out with my free hand to touch the horse. It didn't rip my arm off or let out any terrible sounds, and the fur on it was actually pretty soft to the touch. I sighed, taking a look back at Baragma. "Okay…I sit."

He smiled, coming up behind me and wrapping his hands around my middle rather abruptly. I squirmed only slightly as he sat me on the horse's back, which was suddenly much taller than I remembered. "When we get to a town, you're gonna need to bathe. You stink like you haven't been near soap in years." I glared at the back of his head as he took the reins and tugged the horse's head, which caused it to lurch forward and nearly sent me flying. I tensed up and entwined my hand in the hair that sprouted from the horse's long, arched neck.

"Fall!" I squeaked. He chuckled and murmured an apology that I didn't quite understand, and soon enough I saw a large conglomerate of odd, square tents peeking over the horizon. Smoke rose into the clear, blue sky from chimneys atop them and my acute nose could already smell some sort of cooking flesh. I hoped I wouldn't be on the menu.


	3. Chapter 3

I realized with dismay I didn't even know the gender of this baby. I'd been so caught up in trying to figure out what'd just happened to me and making sure this giant human wasn't going to snap both of our necks I hadn't even thought to look. Making a mental note to do so after I got off and away from this god-forsaken horse, I peered down to at the few townspeople we passed. They stared right back up at me, and made no attempt to hide their whispers of confusion and curiosity at my skin color. I wondered what the big deal was; most of them were pretty pale themselves.

The horse slowed to a stop in front of a building that contained one other horse, a grey one that was happily munching at some grain. Baragma wrapped the horse's reins loosely around a pillar that held up part of the building's roof and came around to stand next to me, arms outreached. "We're gonna stay in the inn here, elf. See if we can't get some food for ourselves and the babe here, as well as a bath." He looked rather bemused as he wrapped his hands around my waist yet again and set me down upon the earth. I wobbled slightly, legs having grown weak and sore from sitting in the saddle for so long. Absently I wondered if Baragma's legs hurt as well, from all the walking. I found that the unsteadiness went away slowly as we strode toward the inn he'd mentioned.

"Safe?" I asked, looking up into his blue eyes with mine. He assured me that everything was well and guided me through the door and toward the counter where a man greeted us. He didn't have the same facial tuft that Baragma did.

"I'd like one room, two tubs of hot water and a bottle of milk for the kid." His cheeks were redder than normal as he spoke; I supposed it was some sort of undiagnosed medical condition. The man on the other side of the bar snickered and asked why his wife couldn't just feed the baby from her own breast. Wife? I wanted to ask exactly what that was, but decided against interrupting them.

"The baby isn't technically hers. Adopted. And she's not my wife." He grunted, brows furrowed at the too-nosy bartender.

"Fine, fine. Best that a strong man as yourself wasn't betrothed to such a feeble little elf anyway. Better not to get too involved with their type." My eyes flickered to Baragma's face, which he'd clapped a hand over and was now rubbing at fervently.

"Please, I don't want to get into a political debate with you right now. Just take my money and get me what I asked for." He removed his hand and stared at the nameless barkeep with an exasperated look on his face, which I noticed had drained itself of the previous excess of redness. The other man snickered, took the sack of coins from Baragma's hand and pointed us to the nearest room while he went to get the water and milk.

I was nudged in the proper direction by way of a large hand in the small of my back. I glanced back at Baragma, "What's wife?" he sighed loudly and pushed the door closed behind us with a click.

"A wife is, uh..." his cheeks regained that red color, "a woman who is bound to a man, to put it simply." I still didn't quite understand, but I nodded and placed the baby down on the bed in the corner and began unraveling the cloth it'd been bound in. My heart quickened a bit, excited to see if it was male or female. The baby looked miserable, and its lower half was wet and stinking of urine, but it still didn't let out a single peep. I noticed a tiny protrusion from said lower half, as well. All the males and male children back home had one like it. I grinned and looked behind me for Baragma, who was busy replacing his steel plate armor with an old shirt and pants, oblivious to the wonderful news. "Male!" I squeaked, clapping my dirty hands together and giving a little bounce.

"What?!" He spun around quickly, his face red again and one hand covering his crotch and the other yanking his pants up hard.

I didn't bother asking about his strange behavior (it seemed everything about this race was odd, really) and instead pointed at the baby and repeated myself, "male!"

He had finally managed to cover himself and was now buckling a leather belt containing two swords not entirely unlike the ones the Falmer used, only made of a different material and shape, around his waist. "What, the kid? You didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl?" I shook my head fervently and pulled back my lips in a way that I'd figured out meant happiness for the people out here.

"Well, congratulations. Gonna name him?" My smile faded and I turned back to the baby, grasping some of the cloth he was previously wrapped in and using it to wipe the urine off him. "Unsure. Think of later." I peered down at the now semi-clean little boy who was sucking his own fist contentedly.

There was a knock at the door, and Baragma answered it to find the still sneering innkeeper holding a bucket of soapy water in each hand and a container of milk under his arm. "Here you are. Have a nice night." He snorted and handed the items off to my companion, who shut and locked the door again before setting everything down.

"Here. I'm gonna wash myself, so…don't look." I wondered why I wasn't supposed to look, but obliged anyway and instead took to making faces at the baby in order to get a laugh out of him. My baby, I realized. Mine.

There was some loud sloshing coming from Baragma's direction and, curious, I turned around to see what was going on despite what he'd said. His back was turned to me and the clothes he'd previously been wearing were strewn about the floor haphazardly; he scrubbed his naked self vigorously with the cloth and soapy water the innkeeper had delivered. I stood up, still curious, and stood behind him for a few seconds before gaining the courage to lean over and sniff the stuff he was rubbing all over himself.

This time it was his turn to scream and have a fit, and he ended up half sprawled on his back and half propped up against the wall, staring at me indignantly. "What in Oblivion are you doing? Trying to make my heart explode?!" I giggled at his outburst for a moment before nodding at his bucket and speaking, "Me too?" This drew a weary sigh from the man, who was trying to wobble to his feet now. "Yes. You too. That's why I got two buckets of water. And you give that milk to the baby so he doesn't die. Don't sneak up on me either, else you end up with a dagger in your guts." He gave me a slightly angry look before resuming his task.

I retrieved the bottle from the floor, unsure why I was just scolded but feeling a bit sorry anyway. It had an odd little thing on the end, vaguely shaped like a mother's nipple but made of hard cloth instead. I leaned down and held it near the baby's mouth, and he latched on instantly and began chugging away at the milk. "Hungry," I said with a giggle. Baragma mumbled something that sounded like agreement, and I could hear him desperately trying to dress himself again. I then remembered the rapidly cooling water in my own bucket and snatched the extra cloth, clutching it in one hand as I quickly shed the ill-fitting clothes the man had let me borrow back at Blackreach.

Now naked, I wetted the cloth and began rubbing away the dirt of nearly twenty years of living underground, amazed at how good it felt and how shiny my skin was when wet. I bent to rub the soapy cloth in the crook between my upper thigh and crotch when I felt eyes on me and straightened up and turned toward Baragma again. His usually small, slightly squinty eyes were wider than I thought they were capable of getting and he began inching his way toward the door. "I'm just uh...gonna go get something to eat. Feel free to join me once you're done. And don't come out there naked please."

I pushed my lips together into a fine line and watched him adjust the front of his pants and slip out the door quietly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to everyone who's viewed so far, and to Envy's Love for being my first reviewer :3 I decided to have them leave the baby at Honorhall for the time being, as it didn't seem very practical to me to have a toddler along on dangerous missions. Fear not, he'll be back in the future. And don't worry, there will be action coming up. I promise!**

"Hard to think that I found you almost a year ago, huh?" Baragma smiled at me over a heavy plate of undercooked deer meat. I stuffed another bite of my own (slightly less bloody) steak in my mouth and nodded quickly, not able to speak over the mouthful. In the time since we met, not much had happened but yet it felt like so much had happened. We left my son at an orphanage in Riften with a kindly lady by the name of Grelod, fearing for little Hakrim's safety too much to bring him along with us at such a young age. I felt like a terrible mother for doing such a thing to him for my own convenience but Baragma assured me it was for the best that he not be involved in dragon slaying and ruin exploring quite yet. I would make it up to him later on, when he was a bit bigger. We still visited him quite often, though, and I was overjoyed to know that he didn't forget who I was during the times we were apart.

After he'd scarfed down his meal and I'd neatly picked away at my own, we began disassembling the campsite we'd been staying in for the night and piled the rolled up bedrolls on the broad backs of Baragma's big bay stallion and my own, a dull black horse that I'd taken to calling Starling for no reason at all other than the starling being my favorite bird. He'd first caught my eye at the Markarth stables, and after putting down a small down payment on him I managed to beg, borrow and steal just enough to purchase him. Both Baragma and the stable owner didn't understand why I liked him so much, seeing as he had a nasty temperament most of the time and wasn't even much to look at with his big, broad head, fat belly and almost nonexistent mane and tail. I had just shrugged at them and said he had a good aura about him before receiving a nice little flesh wound as I tried to lead him away.

"Where are we headed next?" I asked, grunting as I tried and failed to mount the grumpy stallion. My leg strength still had a bit to be desired, apparently. My travelling partner snorted and adjusted his seat on his own horse, "Whiterun. I hear there's a group of mercenaries known as the Companions there looking for new members. I'd like to see what they're all about; it could be fun," I subconsciously made a face, and apparently he'd noticed. "What? I didn't say you had to join. Nah, I'm more of a one man team anyway. You likely aren't good enough to get in anyway,"

"Those are fighting words, Baragma," I gave him a wolfish grin; "Tell you what. We'll both try out and when I get in you have to buy me a whole bottle of Black-Briar," He raised an eyebrow, appeared to think for a moment and then nodded.

"Oh, and we're racing there!" I added quickly, pulling Starling's head sharply around and kicking the horse into a gallop, leaving the other horse and rider pair in the dust both literally and figuratively.

I heard the man behind me yell something that sounded like an accusation of cheating, but the thundering of hooves drowned out most of what he said. We both knew that his big, bulky stallion was no match for my own horse. Especially with his lard ass and all the heavy steel armor he wore piled on the poor beast's back.

The entire way there I kept Starling spurred into a dead run, to which he seemed to greatly enjoy. The animal always did enjoy a good, hard gallop. Sweat lathered on the sides of his neck and spit flew from his mouth, covering mine and his own legs in a sticky mixture of sweat and saliva. "Good boy! What a champion!" I bellowed as I saw the mighty and famous tower of Dragonsreach and the walls of the town surrounding it peek into view over a small hill, giving him a firm pat on the withers with one hand and leaning lower over his neck.

The wind stung my eyes and whistled past my sensitive ears and through my long, white hair beautifully. I thought back to the first time I'd seen a horse, that mellow bay stud that I'd thought was the most hideous thing I'd ever seen that first day I left (or was kidnapped, rather) from Blackreach. I'd thought Baragma's facial tuft, a beard, as they were called, was so odd and the idea of a bath was almost too much for my brain to comprehend. I smiled to myself, amused at how naïve I was just a year ago. He never had quite explained to me why he was so adamant about staying covered around each other, though. It appeared that everyone up top was this way, but I couldn't help but feel a bit spurned when he went to great lengths not to see my naked skin or vice versa.

I could hear Starling's breath becoming more labored, his stamina quickly dwindling. With another few pats on the neck, I leaned back in my saddle and gave a gentle tug on the reins. "Ease up," I said, and almost immediately the horse slowed to a leisurely canter. I kept on like this for a few moments before slowing him again to a trot. Not long after acquiring Starling, Baragma had taught me the importance of cooling a horse down before putting them away and the consequences if this wasn't done correctly. I dearly loved my asshole of a pet, and therefore didn't mind whatsoever putting in the little extra work to keep him happy and healthy. Enjoyed it, even.

Heavy, slow hoofbeats behind me told me that Baragma had long given up on our race and I wasn't surprised in the least. "You owe me some mead!" I called out, hoping he'd hear.

We were nearing the Whiterun stables now, and I tugged my horse to a stop in order to dismount and walk him the rest of the way to let him rest up a bit from carrying me. He grunted and sighed deeply, licking his lips happily as I led him forward and to the waiting stablehand, a Nord man with a beard not entirely unlike Baragma's.

The aforementioned man sat upon his own horse, but kept pace with Starling and I until he dropped down and onto the ground, handing the bay's reins to the stablehand along with a small amount of septims. "Thanks, son. Hey, you. I'll be in town if you need me. Just ask around if you can't find me. I know you'll be out here for ages tending to that damned beast." I smirked, "Not trying to think up any more names for me, eh?"

The odd thing was, I still had not settled on a single name for myself in all the time I'd been on the surface. Usually I stuck with one name per town, but it was getting pretty tiresome trying to remember them all. I'd have to choose a single name for myself to use, and soon, before I entirely lost my mind.

Baragma headed inside the gate, and I could hear the guards gasp a little and let him in eagerly; they whispered to themselves after he was gone, wondering "what could the Dragonborn possibly be doing in our town?". I snickered to myself, not understanding why people treated him with such reverence when in reality he was just a dull-minded farm boy with a very good sword arm and a poor vocabulary. Destinies and whatnot aside, that is.

After brushing out Starling's coat and getting him a heaping pile of hay (much to the stablehand's confusion), I headed inside myself. I wondered if the guards whispered about 'that odd, pale elf with hair down to her waist."


	5. Chapter 5

It took very little searching before I figured out where exactly my companion had headed. A grizzled old lady selling jewelry at a stand in the middle of a cobblestone area along with a few other merchants pointed me up a small set up steps and into the mead hall known as Jorrvaskr. I padded cautiously up those steps, feet hardly making a sound on the stone. The entire building looked foreboding with its rounded, thatched roof and the myriad shields tied to the front of it just above the front doors. I held my breath as I slowly pushed one of those doors open and peeked inside, not wanting to startle any of the famed mercenaries inside and end up a pincushion.

The entire place reeked of mead, sweat and…wolves? I glanced around, looking for the source of that acrid yet not entirely unpleasant odor, but a familiar male voice caught my attention soon after. I headed toward the sound of Baragma chatting with a woman, weaving between a few armor-clad men and women with rather unwelcoming looks on their faces along the way. I found the two standing at the top of a short staircase that led to double doors and what I assumed to be some living quarters, or maybe storage.

"You look worthy enough to me, but go see the old man first. He's got a good eye for people. Can stare right into your soul and tell your worth right then and there." Her mouth was half open, like she was about to say something else when she caught sight of me. "You lost, little girl?"

I furrowed my nearly invisible eyebrows and glared at the woman. I was determined to not be scared of her or anyone else here, even though those three green stripes of paint across her face _did_ look pretty intimidating. "No, actually. I came looking for my friend here," I nodded toward Baragma, who had stepped to the side to watch us. "And to see about joining up with your group."

She tried to conceal her amusement at the prospect of such a short, weak-looking little elf fighting at her side. I noticed she didn't try very hard, though. "All right, then. What's your name, elf?" I froze, not being entirely sure what to say at that point. I glanced around the room quickly, meeting Baragma's wide gaze for just a millisecond before replying. "Luma Cinder-Fist at your service." I smiled meekly and contained the sigh of relief I wanted to let out at her seeming acceptance of the completely made up name.

"Very well. Both of you go speak to Kodlak, he should be in his quarters at the end of the hall downstairs." She nodded sharply at Baragma as she made her way back toward the huge fire pit in the center of the room. She smelled strongly of wolves, just like the rest of the building. I wrinkled my nose.

He held the door for me and I walked at his side toward the last room at the end of the hall, just like the woman had instructed us. "I don't like her. She's too predatory. Looked like she wanted to pounce on you then and there, but not before ripping my entrails out of course." He chuckled loudly, looking at me in slight askance as if he wasn't sure if I was serious or not.

"I have that effect on women, you know, _Luma." _He spoke the name as if it felt odd on his tongue. I crossed my arms sulkily and stared holes in the side of his head, leaning up against a pillar next to Kodlak's door as Baragma rapped lightly on it.

"Ah, one moment!" A deep voice boomed from within. We both looked at each other nervously as a set of footsteps drew closer to the door, but the face that we saw when it was opened was not what we were expecting. A young, black-haired man with what looked like charcoal rubbed all around his eyes stared unblinkingly at us; "What have we got here? New prospective whelps?" He spoke in a tone that both sounded questioning and knowing at the same time, and I cocked my head at him.

"You're Kodlak?" I asked incredulously. His icy gaze switched to a condescending glare as he peered down at me. "No, _elf_. I'm Vilkas, and you'd be wise to watch your tone with me." He glanced over his shoulder as he pushed between myself and Baragma, "We can speak more later, Kodlak."

Ugh, he stinks like a damn canine too, I thought. They must have had some pet wolves somewhere around this place for the smell to permeate everything and everyone so badly.

I pushed my curiosity about those wolves to the back of my mind as we padded into the Harbinger's quarters, both staring at our feet like scolded children.

"Look me in the eye, you two. Only thieves and people with something to hide won't look a man in the eye." We both did as he asked without a peep, and I was surprised with what I saw, personally. An age-weathered burly old man with a smile on his lips and white hair clapped his hands together once and changed between looking at me and Baragma. "It's always nice to have a few new whelps around Jorrvaskr. You both look as if you've got a fire burning in your hearts, especially you, Dragonborn."

Baragma looked surprised, "You know who I am?"

"Aye, but who hasn't heard of you these days?" He punctuated that sentence with a hearty sounding 'ha!'

Looking rather flustered, Baragma simply introduced himself by his actual name and then took to keeping his trap shut.

"And who are you, girl? If you don't mind me asking another question too, _what_ are you? Seem a bit too pale to be a Dunmer, Bosmer or Altmer." He didn't seem mocking, just genuinely curious.

I sighed inwardly, hoping he wouldn't make too much of a fuss about my race. "My name is Luma Cinder-Fist and I'm uh...a snow elf."

Kodlak's bright eyes widened and he seemed a little dumbfounded at first, but quickly composed himself and began to grin widely at me. "A real, non-feral Falmer huh? Well, it'd be rather interesting to have one of your kind in our halls. Please, both of you go upstairs and talk to Farkas. He's the big one that looks like Vilkas, who you just met. Tell him I want him to test the both of you for mettle."

We nodded and spun to go back up to Jorrvaskr's top floor when Kodlak spoke again. "One more thing, neither of you have silver weapons on you, do you?" Neither of us did, and he sent us back on our way. I couldn't help but think how odd it was that silver was forbidden around here.

With a giggle, Baragma poked me in the side; "No silver allowed, eh? Maybe they're all werewolves!"

Farkas was certainly as big as a werewolf, but his musky haven't-bathed-in-years smell overpowered any sort of wolfy smell he might have had about him. Both of us followed the hulking man out into the back yard, where he told us the sparring would take place. I began to get antsy, eager for my turn to show myself. It'd been ages since I had a real good fight, and even then it was just against a few wild dogs. I damned Baragma for never sharing the glory of a battle with one of his dragons, or for letting me tag along when he went to the Throat of the World. He'd said a _real, live talking _dragon lived up there, and he actually got to speak to him. What an honor, I thought as images of a mighty winged beast perched upon a mountain flashed through my mind.

Farkas drew his greatsword and the slightly smaller Dragonborn did the same with his double wielded, razor sharp scimitars. They circled each other like predators over a kill, but not two seconds afterward Farkas raised the sword in his grasp over his head and brought it down upon Baragma with a grunt, who just barely managed to skip out of its grasp and take a swipe at his opponent's steel-clad chest in the process. It didn't even faze the bigger man. Adjusting his grip on the sword's hilt slightly, Farkas raised his shield to block a hard blow from Baragma's scimitar. He stepped back a few feet, shook his head as if to clear his mind and leapt forward with a loud snarl, bowling an unsuspecting Farkas over and throwing the both of them into the dust, apparently deciding that there was no way he could get through the other man's defenses in any conventional way. I sat on a rock nearby and wondered what'd happen if Baragma used one of his Shouts on him. Probably nothing good.

"Dirty trick!" The greatsword-wielding man bellowed as he grasped desperately for his weapon that lay nearby. Baragma visibly tensed his jaw and put one knee on Farkas' back, digging it in between his shoulder blades and forcing him back to the ground. "Doesn't matter. Real enemies don't fight clean." Just to prove his point, the man rested the cutting edge of his scimitar on the back of his victim's neck gently. "You give up?"

After a short bout of squirming and cursing, Farkas decided he was had. "Get the fuck off me!" He growled, eyes flashing. Baragma did so with a snort and then strode toward me, chest puffed out like a strutting rooster. The sweaty, stinking fellow clapped me on the shoulder and pushed me none too gently off the rock I was perched on. I balled up my little fist and punched him directly on the inner thigh, his face being too far out of reach. "Rude!"

I tottered over toward my sparring partner, taking care to look as nervous and helpless as possible as I drew the rather puny looking elvish dagger I carried from the belt of my trousers and tossed it between my two hands a few times experimentally. My gaze shifted to Farkas' sword, and I made my eyes grow wide and doe-like. "This doesn't exactly make for a fair fight does it?" He shrugged wordlessly and readied himself anyway. I smirked and began circling him, spinning my blade in my fingers leisurely as I did so. My senses became keener as I focused in harder on my opponent, every tiny movement he made becoming as apparent as a storm cloud in a clear sky, and slowly I managed to tune out my environment almost completely. "No dirty tricks like your friend over there or I'll cut your head off myself, elf."

I snorted at him, and considered telling him I had no need for such trickery. Before I could speak, though he raised his sword and swung it at me hard with a forceful yell that told me he meant business. Well so did I. Dodging the blow with only minimal difficulty, I swirled around and brought the hard little knob on the end of my dagger down onto the back of his neck where his armor stopped and the sensitive, thin skin began. He let out a cry of pain, his knees buckling slightly, and then of anger as he brought his elbow around swiftly to collide with my face. With a squeal, I fell back and clapped a hand to my broken and bleeding nose. The searing pain throughout my face served only to anger me, though, and I clutched my dagger harder with white knuckles and summoned what I knew of destruction magic into my other palm. Farkas' eyes widened as I rushed him, blade raised and screaming. He raised his sword to block the blow and received a knife in the wrist joint for his efforts. He dropped his weapon and clutched the wound tight, dropping to one knee. "I-" he began to speak, but was cut short after being kicked violently in the teeth. He fell to his back with the force of it and I stood over him, my empty hand hovering over his face and a growing ball of fire spinning between my fingers. Just as I was about to turn this poor man into kindling, I was brought to the ground by a man that looked very similar to Farkas and very angry. He pinned my shoulders, rendering me helpless, and bellowed a single word in my face: "LEAVE."

I did as he asked.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm soooo sorry for the long wait, you guys ;_; I feel terrible, but I just haven't had much motivation to write lately. Hopefully you can forgive me!**

Rage burned through my body like a wildfire, and I was barely aware of Baragma pounding after me calling my assumed name. "Luma! Stop, please," I begrudgingly did as he asked and spun on my heel to stare him directly in the face.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" I thought he would scold me for taking the sparring too far, or tell me he never wanted to see my face again, or just look at me and shake his head like a disapproving parent. But he did none of that, and if I wasn't mistaken there was a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Blackreach. There was nothing to do most of the time down there so we would practice fighting a lot. I guess the Falmer take their spars more seriously than humans do, though." I leaned to the side to peer back up at Jorrvaskr, which was rather quiet despite the chaos that was probably going on inside. He crossed his arms and gave me that look, and I sensed a lecture coming on. Suddenly I felt very small, like an insect under a magnifying lens.

He didn't lecture me, though. "Well, now you know. Take it easy on people next time, unless it's for real of course." I noticed for the first time I had been clenching my jaw so hard it hurt, and I considered going back up to the mead hall on my own and apologizing to Farkas for getting so carried away. Pride wouldn't let me, though, and instead I waited outside the door while Baragma went in and spoke with them. There was no screaming or crashes, which was good I supposed. When he came back out, his face was bright and happy. I forced a smile, trying to be happy for him, "So, you're in?" He nodded and my smile faded.

"They said that you might be a tad too fiery for them though," Baragma shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry _Luma-" _he said that name funny again, "You can come up and visit sometimes though, nothing wrong with that. Maybe I'll even sneak you along on a job or two." I thought about how humiliating that would be, to be the rejected member of the Companions tagging along with their newest whelp, but nodded slowly just to appease the man.

"I'm supposed to go visit Eorlund Gray-Mane and get a new weapon, too." He looked to be growing more excited by the minute and had already set off at a jog toward the small hill that led to the Skyforge before I even had a chance to reply. I shook my head and followed after, at a slightly slower pace.

Baragma had settled in nicely at Jorrvaskr and they'd kept him busier than he normally was, much to my displeasure. I didn't quite know the word to describe the feeling that grew in the pit of my stomach and that nagging thought at the back of my head that wailed _he's forgotten about you_ over and over until I wanted to cave my own head in, but I knew I didn't like it. We rarely got even a moment to speak anymore, and I was beginning to grow restless waiting around at the Bannered Mare for him to come-a-calling. I sat at the bar on a stool nursing a tankard of mead and listening to Mikael strum his instrument and sing, and I wanted nothing more in that moment to just cleave the heads from everyone in the room and set the building ablaze in the name of boredom. At least that'd be something to do, I thought.

The tankard drained of its contents, I sat it down on the counter and dropped a few septims next to it before nodding to Hulda and striding tartly toward the door, head held high and jaw set like someone who had a plan. In truth, I didn't have a plan other than going and retrieving my horse from the stables and going on a ride to quell the absolute boredom of the town that was beginning to feel like a prison.

Crisp air bit at my pale skin and turned my nose and lips bright pink, but I didn't let it bother me as I brushed out Starling's coat a bit more roughly than usual. He pinned his ears and snapped his teeth at me several times, but received an elbow in the nose and a bit in his mouth instead. I decided to forego the saddle this time, as I wished to save a bit of time and effort, and mounted my haphazardly groomed stallion. Immediately he broke into a quick canter, clearly eager to get out of the stall and stretch his legs for once, and I wasn't about to argue. Scattered snowflakes fell from the otherwise clear sky and melted on my skin and in my tightly braided hair. A young stag and its mother shrieked and bolted away from us, and I could hear the chittering of the birds that lived in the nearby forest more clearly than ever.

Before I knew it, Starling and I were farther away from town than I'd anticipated going. Uneasiness knotted in my gut at the realization that I was lost and fairly far from 'home', and my horse sensed it as well as he slowed to a walk and began twitching his ears about nervously.

"Easy, it's okay." I stroked his neck and murmured to him quietly, trying to reassure myself more than him. The treeline had grown closer to the path than back around the plains of Whiterun, and I found myself unable to tear my eyes away from their dark depths. Something was not right at all, and apart from trying to retrace my path I had no idea how to get back to Whiterun. The horse made a deep rumbling noise that came from his chest and stared intently at a particularly impassable thicket, nostrils flared and muscles so tense one might think he himself were made of Skyforge steel.

The bushes rustled a bit and out popped a small brown elk, looking rather frightened itself as it seemed to try and decide which way to turn as it skittered around on the cobblestone path. It seemingly chose to head farther up the road, away from us and whatever had spooked it. Starling was now backing up quickly, half-rearing and snorting hard as he did so. I tugged on my reins, trying to get him to come to a halt and wondering why a simple elk had caused him to act in such a way when I heard possibly the most frightening, ear-piercing noise I'd ever come across in my life. It sounded like the twisted, mutated howls of a wolf or dog but I'd never heard any creature make such a noise.

Suddenly I knew what was frightening the horse so badly, but it was too late. He let out a frantic shriek, reared straight up and dumped me off before taking off at the hardest run I'd ever seen him. I lay there on the ground, without a horse or any means of escape, and I accepted my fate in that moment as I rolled about trying to learn how to breathe again. Whatever had roared just moments ago was going to kill me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow, I am terrible. I need to update this more often. If you guys are still reading, thank you so much!**

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I became conscious quickly, eyes fluttering open to a dark room and a fiery pain blossoming from well, everywhere. There was a thick wool blanket draped over me and it itched terribly, not to mention the fireplace roaring in my room already kept the place at quite a warm temperature. A blanket was just overkill. My throat and mouth were drier than the deserts of Elsweyr, and I desperately wanted a drink. From where I was going to get one I didn't know, however, when I forced my unbearably heavy legs over the side of the bed and tried my damnedest to stand up. Just as I did so, however, the pain in my legs and skull grew to new heights and I collapsed to the wooden floor with an ear-piercing scream, my pale white hands clasping around my ears.

It was then that I noticed something was different. Everything was…_more_. The insides of my eyelids were brighter pink than I remembered, I could feel every bump and splinter and crack on the boards in the floor, the clanking of glasses in the next room and the murmurs of a pair of people was an annoying roar in the back of my mind. I dug my fingernails into my scalp, curling into a tighter ball and groaning unhappily as the pounding of incoming footsteps matched the pounding of blood through my brain.

"She's awake! Lydia, get some water would you?" I recognized Baragma's voice and held back a shriek when the door to my room flew open and allowed the dratted light in to bother me.

"Shut the fucking door, please." I barked, waving one hand in what I thought was the man's direction. He did not comply, and instead slid his giant hands under my armpits and pulled me to my feet and into my very first hug. I tensed up automatically, and my muscles protested violently, but I just sort of looked around the room nervously and gave him a single pat on the back. "What are you doing, Baragma?" he didn't answer my question, much to my chagrin.

After a few seconds had passed I was released from the man's death grip and after a fair bit of wobbling and stumbling, I managed to stay on my feet. "Sorry. I uh-I just didn't know if you'd ever wake up or not. You've been in a coma for nearly a week now." He looked sheepish, eyes cast to the floor and hands held behind his back.

I raised my eyebrows, trying to remember anything past a few minutes ago when I had literally fallen out of bed, and found myself drawing a blank. "What happened? Why was I passed out for so long?"

He gestured at the general area of my body, "Somethin' attacked you when you went out ridin'. When your horse showed up at the stables all covered in sweat, lookin' scared and most importantly without you, I knew something had happened. So I managed to convince the Jarl to let me steal a few guards away from their posts and went lookin' for ya. Found you laying in a puddle of blood and all torn up, head to toe." When I asked if he knew what had attacked me, he just shrugged and scrunched up his eyebrows in an 'I don't know' fashion.

"I'm really thirsty.." I said, peeking over Baragma's thick shoulder and wondering where his servant had gone off to. He nodded, gestured for me to come out into the main room and hollered for Lydia again who screeched back at him to be patient. I smirked, admiring Lydia's feistiness and yet still wishing she'd hurry up. My ears could pick up the sound of a mouse scratching around in the attic, and some sort of large animal snorting outside. The whole house smelt of sweat and dirt, I noticed. This was only the second time I'd ever been in Baragma's house, and yet I remembered everything as if it were yesterday. It was odd how I could remember how many wardrobes were scattered around the place yet I couldn't remember what sort of animal had nearly mauled me to death.

Soon, Lydia appeared with a few jugs of mead, some grilled leeks and slaughterfish balanced on one arm and a plate overflowing with various chopped fruits on the other. I resisted the urge to make a remark about her being a lowly maid these days for fear of her finishing the job that the wild animal hadn't and killing me right there. "It's dark now, so I'm not going out to draw any water from the well so you'll have to make due with mead for now. I brought some food too, but I don't know what you like and that's all we had around the house. Eat it or don't, it's the wee hours of the morning and I'm going to bed." She sniffed, padding off to her upstairs bedroom, nightgown swishing behind her as if to punctuate her annoyance at being woken up.

I dug into the fish at once, only chewing it just enough to get it down my throat. "Ease up, Luma. You'll make yourself sick," Baragma said from my left side over his own mouthful of food. I ignored him and shoveled in a handful of apples, which I hadn't even liked before now. They were almost overwhelmingly sweet, and I enjoyed it greatly. Never before had an apple tasted like this, and then I noticed that the fish tasted pretty heavenly as well. And then I took a long swig of mead, and I could literally cry at how wonderful that tasted. Secretly I wondered why everything tasted so much better than usual, but I chalked it up to my having not eaten in a week as well as maybe some side effects of a potion that'd been used to help heal me. Besides, there was more food left and I couldn't be bothered with thinking at that moment.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything had gone well the past few weeks, my wounds had healed into some nasty scars but they no longer hurt and my heightened senses had stayed behind-which I was growing to be grateful for. I'd even been able to start riding Starling again lately, for which we were both glad. Whiterun, however, was losing its appeal quickly now and I began begging Baragma to take me along on an adventure or two, but he'd started treating me as if I were made of glass after the incident and had declined after every attempt at letting me come along. I wanted desperately to get out and about again, but having been mauled left me very wary of the world outside the city walls and thus I'd stayed mostly cooped up in Breezehome and occasionally going out to the stables to visit the horses.

It was nighttime now, and I was feeling more stir crazy than usual. The moons' light peeked through the thick, dusty curtains hanging from the windows of Baragma's home and I had had enough of walking in circles through the house. Something within me toiled and screamed for release, and I wasn't about to fight it. I told Lydia that I'd be gone for a while, and she grunted at me before returning to her book as I made my way out the door, still yanking on my soft leather boots as I went.

The night air was crisp and wonderful, a gentle breeze tousling my silvery hair behind me as I strode toward the city gates. That screaming presence inside me ached to run, just _run_ as hard as I –as it-could. I no longer felt afraid of the wilderness, and I didn't even desire the company of Starling tonight. It was just as well, I could tell by the way he was breathing when I walked past his stall he was asleep anyway.

That thing inside me felt wild, dangerous even, in the way it squirmed and tried to wrestle its way to the front of my mind. I'd never experienced anything of this nature before, and my curiosity got the better of me. I relaxed my mind, so to speak, halted all my racing thoughts and just let whatever come, come.

And then searing, horrible pain wracked my entire body. I could hear my own bones snapping and grinding against each other like kindling in a campfire as they shifted into a new shape and my face felt swollen and hard, like it was longer than it used to be. Head pounding, vision pulsing and every sense on high alert, I raised my head to the moons that now governed my actions and howled with ferocity that I did not know I possessed. Now, my consciousness was at the back of my own mind. It was like I had become secondary to whatever foul beast had taken control of my body. I hated it, and I wanted to go back to how things were a moment ago. Still though, my new body charged on as if by its own accord.

The last thing I remember of that night is the copious amounts of saliva that dripped unabashed from my jaws when I caught sight of a lone patrolling guard. After that, everything went dark just as it had that day I'd been attacked.


End file.
